


Blind trust

by PoisonJack



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Deacon bud you got the wrong idea from the start ITS ALL GOOD, Established Relationship, F/M, General au, Guilt Issues, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Whump, because deacons an idiot but its all good, lots of feels, somewhat graphic descriptions of injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-06-23 15:43:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15609591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoisonJack/pseuds/PoisonJack
Summary: Deacon is such a miserable bastard and its SO not necessary like damn for being so perceptive he is blind ashell.Yet another excuse for some deacon/nora/mac goodness. That good hurt/comfort, let's whump the characters a good one haha.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> End game is some good Nora MacDeacon as I call it xD Read this _without_ the 'deacon is a miserable bastard' blinders and see what an idjit he really is haha

He hated himself for it all, but he couldn't stop himself.

Deacon liked Mac. Loyal friend. Good sniper. Funny as hell trying not to curse. He liked him a great deal. But he also envied him something fierce.

Nora was clearly in love with the mercenary. He'd been watching them for months, after all, before he'd finally approached to get her to join the Railroad. 

….Months in which he'd watched necessity turn to trust and trust to bloom into something much more intimate. The way Mac kissed her, held her, made love to her, it was clearly more than just solace taken in one’s traveling companion.

So when Nora came onto Deacon seriously for the first time, it threw him like a direct hit from a missile. 

They'd always been flirty-- hell, he flirted with _everyone_ if he could help it; made for better cover- but when Nora had _kissed_ him, he knew he was destined to ruin something beautiful. MacCready clearly loved her. She clearly loved him back, or so Deacon had thought, but that was more than a teasing kiss, and it wouldn't be the last time.

She was always handsy, and he personally tended _not_ to be-- at least when his cover allowed- but she crossed more than a few lines in private with him on some runs Mac couldn't come with for. Any excuse it seemed, as if trying to coax him to want to touch her back.

He had to say it was working.

Deacon returned her kiss the next time she pressed against him when Mac was securing the perimeter. Risky, but he couldn't help himself when given the opportunity again. He held her back, groped as her hands dug up the back of his shirt in the shadows and she made pleased hums in her throat. It was wrong. He knew it was wrong. But he couldn't stop himself even if he made halfhearted statements to the contrary.

“...MacCready will see.”

“You don’t have to worry about him. It’s okay,” she purred. Deacon still stood warily. She removed her hands from where they'd been inching into his waistline, moving to stroke along his jawline with her thumb instead. “I promise, it’s all good. You don't have to worry. It's just me right now.”

He hated that he was doing this to MacCready. Regardless of how the sniper might feel, he actually _liked_ the other man and counted him as a rare friend. He had a good head on his shoulders and was trying to do right by his kid. Couldn't ask much more than that out in the wasteland. It made Deacon respect the hell out of the younger man.

It wouldn't be nice if Mac ever found out Nora was messing around with Deacon on the side, and that Deacon still joked with Mac right to his face as if nothing was amiss. He'd been called two-faced in his time just in his work for the Railroad, but this was on an entirely different level, especially with the fond grins and playful banter when they all worked together.

He hated himself but god he couldn't stay away from Nora. She didn't press him for touches in public, or when Mac was within sight, and her discretion made him even more bold when they were alone. He came to enjoy wrapping his arms about her during their down time, or kissing lightly where he wouldn't leave telling marks. It made him feel even guiltier when she'd sit between them by the fire, press a kiss to Mac’s cheek and wrap an arm around Deacon. How the sniper _didn't_ know must've been blind trust, and the thought gnarled inside the spy.

They slept together the first time after a mission for the Railroad. Nora’s body was battle scarred and gorgeous and she felt so good and he was _screwed_ because he could never give her up, he knew. Not for MacCready’s sake, and not to anyone else. He couldn't imagine _not_ being with her now that he'd experienced the way she softly sighed his name, and needy moans and the way she liked to cuddle after reaching her peak. He couldn't help himself even with knowing how it would destroy MacCready if the sniper ever found out, and he felt guiltier and guiltier with every smile or joke or post-battle clap on the shoulder the younger man gave him. 

It had to be his years of cold hard practice keeping his cool, because Deacon felt like he was slipping under the weight of guilt, and it was only a matter of time before MacCready found out what was happening right under his nose.

“Here,” Mac said with a smile, handing Deacon a beer and sitting next to him by the cooking fire.

Guilt was gnawing a hole in him as he accepted the drink, and he listened to the other man idly chatter as he took a few slugs of warm beer. It wasn't hard to listen to the animated way in which Mac talked, but god how it ate at him. As if every word he said to the other man was another lie right out his mouth.

Nora wanted them to be closer, and Deacon tried to be nice and just as friendly back even if he felt like the worst of scum; being Mac’s friend while lying by omission right to his face. Truthfully he didn't feel worthy of sitting the same space with the man while he was fucking the woman he loved. It felt dirty.

He wanted to say it became easier-- more guilt-free- to listen to the sniper as Mac got drunk, but the normally pleasant buzz of alcohol in his own veins tugged at the mask of easy camaraderie that screamed for truth among friends and desired to expose him.

Luckily he was practiced enough in deception that truth was the _last_ thing going to come out of his mouth.

“--don' ya think it’d be a good idea?”

Deacon looked at the other man, realizing he'd spaced out, and MacCready’s words were becoming more slur by the second.

“Wait, what were you saying again?” Deacon asked honestly, his thoughts dragging him deep and feeling he more than owed the younger man proper attention.

Mac just snorted, giving him a toothy smile under drunken lids, and slung an arm around Deacon’s shoulder before muttering something about mole rats and target practice and chuckling at the word ‘bomb’. He was leaning heavily against Deacon, humming, and the spy put down his half-full beer and wrapped an arm around Mac’s side.

“I think it's time to put you to bed, Mr. MacCready.”

“Ooh, and if I don't wanna? How ya gonna convince me?” he asked with what was definitely a playful smirk.

Deacon snorted, smiling. “That Nora will kick _both_ our asses if we sleep next to the fire when we have perfectly good beds. _Again._ ”

“That an inbi- invitation?” MacCready grinned up at him, the gloss to his eyes one of the pleasantly drunk.

Deacon just snorted again and got them both to their feet, leading the younger man in the direction of Nora’s house to put him in her bed. Where he belonged.

The alcohol in his own system wasn't nearly enough to deal with this right now.

Nora wasn't in bed though the hour was late-- probably still up with Preston working on plans for proper plumbing for Sanctuary- but Deacon put Mac to bed anyways, helping him off with his shoes while his brain kept telling him what a goddamned fraud he was.

“Okay, this is night-night Creaders. We've got ferals to clear out tomorrow, remember.”

“No g’night kiss?” Mac sassed with a grin as he got comfortable under the covers.

Deacon wondered when _Mac_ had become the wisecracker around here, and _he_ had become so damn serious. Maybe he needed a few more beers himself for once.

The sniper was making kissing-sounds at him that _almost_ alarmed him-- as if rubbing it in his face that it was MacCready in Nora’s bed and not him. But Deacon brushed it off. There was no way Mac knew, and even if he did, this wouldn’t be the way he’d rub salt in the wound.

Mac was drunk, Deacon had to remind himself, and probably meant nothing else aside from normal teasing. He _didn't_ know what they were up to. And hopefully it would stay that way.

A laughing attempt to pull Deacon down into the bed with him, and a loud, smacking press of Mac’s lips against Deacon’s cheek made the spy feel even worse about their situations, his conscience screaming accusations at him. Mac was being honestly playful, treated him like someone he _could_ be playful with, which, frankly, wasn't many people to begin with. That kind of _honest_ , friendly intimacy was a rarity in this day and age; that said he trusted him enough to be unguarded and silly from the big tough mercenary act he liked to pull.

And Deacon was returning that trust by fucking the woman he loved behind his back.

He gave Mac’s cheek a pat. “See you in the morning, Mackers.”

“See _you_ in the morning,” he repeated with a grin, as if it was an accusation.

Deacon smirked and left him after that, checking once that _yes_ , Nora _was_ still up with Preston, and probably would be for some time. He could leave them to it. 

Last thing he wanted to do was something stupid with the alcohol in his system, and there were too many eyes and ears here to try and get away with a little nighttime liaison anyways.

He went to bed instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just guys bein' dudes. Just dudes bein' pals xD ahaha Deacon you moron.
> 
> I'll update if there's interest/comments. Or we can keep it in the pain zone haha whatever. If you're reading _this_ then you've read the story in which case, leave a comment yeah? :) Chapter 2 needs a bit of polish but it's ready if you guys actually want it. Story should clock in just over 5k :)
> 
> [my fallout tumblr](http://CommonwealthBankofMacCready.tumblr.com/) | [my fic archive masterlist](https://commonwealthbankofmaccready.tumblr.com/post/172184061939/poisonjack-ao3-fic-archive)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Deacon, you paranoid bastard those were perfectly good eggs.

“Hey. _Deacon.”_

The spy looked up from where he'd been cleaning his gun at the workbench, where Mac had hissed his name in hushed tones. 

The younger man was around the corner of the house across the street from Nora’s in Sanctuary. The sniper was grinning, something hidden in his jacket he was holding to his middle, and giving little suspicious looks to his left and his right like he was the keeper of some great secret.

“What’s up?” Deacon got up to see whatever it was the other man was so proud over. It made the spy a little edgy, but it was the middle of the day. Everyone was out and about doing various things needing doing. He had nothing to be truly concerned about.

“Give you two guesses as to what I got,” Mac said with excitement as Deacon looked down at the other man's hands.

He wondered if Mac had small melons of some kind. That, or larger-than-normal baseball grenades. Why the sniper would hide something like _that_ was beyond him though, and Mac’s grin was a little too-excited to be sure. Deacon raised a single brow at him. “All I can say man, is if those are your balls, we’ve got bigger problems than just radiation on our hands.”

Mac turned red, sputtering laughing as he shook his head. “Shut up or I won’t share them with you.” He revealed what were clearly two pristine mirelurk eggs, gently cradling them in the crook of his elbow so he wouldn't break them. He opened his held-jacket better so Deacon could see properly.

MacCready gave the spy a crooked, self-pleased grin as Deacon gave him a mildly surprised look. Mirelurk eggs were his _favorite_ , but what the other man was _doing_ with any he had no idea. There were more or less eradicated from the area.

“I’m almost afraid to ask, but where did you get mirelurk eggs around _here_?”

“Carla got them off a scavver coming up here. I told her we were in the market.” 

The self-satisfied note of pleasure in Mac’s voice caught Deacon a little off-guard. The sniper looked so pleased with himself that he might start bouncing on his heels any moment.

This had to be some weird sort of karma or something. Deacon _loved_ mirelurk eggs, and Nora had done a pretty good job destroying any and all nearby threats that might threaten Sanctuary’s safety. It wasn’t a usual treat found in the settlement, and something they now enjoyed more or less _only_ on the road. “I didn’t know you liked ‘em enough to place an order,” Deacon mentioned noncommittally, wondering what the other man had planned for them. “Figured you more for a fancy lad.”

Mac snorted at that, but then just shrugged. “Eh, they’re alright. No radstag stew, but they're still good.” He took them and motioned expectantly to the spy, and then dumped them into Deacon’s hands. “I know _you_ have a weird sweet-tooth for these things though. Or whatever it's called. _Anyways_ , yeah. So. We should start having them up here now. That’s all.” He grinned as Deacon held the eggs in his palms, more or less dumbfounded by the gift.

It felt like a trap. No one was ever this nice without an ulterior motive. He wondered with a spike of alarm if the sniper suspected anything, and was trying to bribe him into his own good graces; a friendly ‘hey man, if you could stop fucking Nora I'd really appreciate it, thanks’ sort of gesture. 

Though that felt like giving the other man too much credit in Deacon’s opinion. Why go out of your way to be _nice_ with this kind of thing? “Aaaaand what do you want me to do with these?”

Mac gave him a look like he was dumb. At the moment, he sure felt like it.

“Do you… need me to cook them for you?” he offered with a raised brow, a little perplexed that the other man wouldn’t know how to cook something he liked so much.

“No.”

“Okay then. Eat ‘em. I'll let Carla know to keep ‘em coming,” he said with a grin, and left Deacon standing there dumbfounded as he watched the younger man leave in the caravan’s direction.

He gaped at his own palms, brain trying to rationalize things. The eggs looked good. Fresh. Probably even picked up that same day. They'd make a good, hefty plate of chow, that was for damn sure. His mouth began to water at the thought.

He wanted them, he really did. _Then_ he considered the way Mac had approached him covert-like, being so _nice_. What if he _did_ know, and this was an attempt to _poison_ Deacon? It sure would get him out of the way easily, and the eggshells were rather porous. Plenty easy to inject something that would do him in quick, and it'd get him out of the way perfectly.

Deacon frowned to himself at the idea that the merc might be so devious, objectively thinking it was _hilarious_ that he was _hurt_ by such a possibility-- that MacCready would try to poison him after what he was doing himself under his nose.

Thing was, Deacon genuinely _liked_ Mac, and no, he really didn't want to hurt him. He just had poor self-control where Nora was concerned. That he would be the target to take out in this endeavor was _obvious_. It still hurt that Mac might have it in him to kill Deacon. Deacon didn't think he could do the same to the younger man.

Deacon squirreled himself away in the hills behind Sanctuary, cooking the eggs up to test on the local molerat population before trying any himself.

The molerats seemed fine, at least as far as the dumb things were concerned. They didn't shy away from the scraps like they could smell anything wrong with them, and if a molerat’s nose didn't detect anything, then maybe they _were_ okay, and he was just overthinking things. Paranoia was a hell of a thing.

Deacon tasted the eggs suspiciously, chewing slowly in trying to discern anything out of the ordinary, but his paranoia won out and he ended up throwing the rest to the rats with a dissatisfied frown. He hoped the wrinkly bastards enjoyed it.

\--

“So I want to clear some ferals out of the ruins to the northeast. Can't keep having my settlements attacked, and if they can build up walls and guard towers _without_ these assholes interrupting construction for _once,_ maybe I can have a damn vacation,” Nora groused to Mac and Deacon as they crouched down just inside the ruins of an old building. 

Their target spot was about three-hundred meters where the old streets converged, the still-standing walls of otherwise ruined buildings creating the perfect choke point to lure in the irradiated creatures without putting themselves too much at risk. Nice and neat, flat land sloping downwards. They shouldn't even break a sweat herding them right to their guns. “Ready to take down some ferals?”

“You want me to set up a perimeter up top?” Mac asked with an easy grin, rifle shouldered and ready for some long-distance sniping. “I mean, not that we can't see ‘em from _here_ , but I'd prefer _not_ to go deaf from the amplification here. This is going to be _loud.”_

Nora snorted. Yeah, she'd noticed the way their voices seemed to carry on the old stone too. “That sounds good. I'll make some noise down towards the end, make sure they all come up through there-- and only there,” Nora agreed. “If we can run them all through that choke point-” she motioned. “-it'll make things child’s play. Back in time for the community barbecue and everything,” she joked.

“Want me to set up shop in this window?” Deacon asked, the sill providing good cover, and another vantage point to shoot the ferals. It was just angled right so that Nora wouldn't be staring down the barrel of his gun when she lured the creatures in.

She shook her head. “I want you _behind_ me, Deacon. We don't want them coming in from the rear and catching us with our pants down. I wanna hold focus on the front if we can. It'll be a mess if they come at us from both sides.”

Mac snorted, and Nora rolled her eyes, giving him a look. “ _Really_ Robert Joseph?”

“Oh come _on,_ boss, you can't say words like that and _not_ expect a laugh. I keep waiting for the punch line.”

He gave Deacon a grin and a wink, as if he was in on the joke, and the spy felt his heart rate increase just a minute amount. 

There was no _way_ Mac didn't know about them. There was too much coincidence for it to actually _be_ coincidence. He must've been hinting to it. He knew. He knew _aaaaall_ about what they were doing, but he'd pretend a little longer if Deacon stopped of his own volition. That _had_ to be what he meant. A warning wrapped up in a joke.

Deacon forced himself to chuckle awkwardly.

“Okay, if we're all _done_ here,” Nora said with another roll of her eyes at Mac, before giving her attention to Deacon, “Mac, up top, get settled. Then we'll do this. Deacon… I need to talk to you about something first.”

“ _Ooooooh,_ ” Mac teased, giving the spy a shit-eating grin before getting up from their little huddle. He gave the older man a smirk, looking at Nora and then back at Deacon. “I'll set up that perimeter. Ready when you are. ...Heaven help you, man.”

Deacon’s heart was in his throat as Nora muttered something he didn't catch under her breath, and she took his hand and tugged him a little further into the building for privacy. MacCready milled around outside looking for the best vantage point to snipe from, and left them to it.

Deacon followed her into the small space inside the mostly-intact walls that were still standing, self-loathing eating at him and wondering just what on earth Nora had to say to him. This had to be it. 

“Dee--”

“Does he know?” he asked outright, and Nora’s expression told him all he needed. He looked away with a self-disappointed frown. “Fuck.”

“Hey now hold up a minute,” she told him, hand on his bicep as she looked him right in the face. Her voice was plaintive, expression uncertain, but she quickly got right to the point. “Look, Deacon… you _know_ I love Mac, right?”

He felt sick in his stomach. Maybe it _had_ been one sided. A good, illicit time and some fun on the side, but that was all it was for her, because it was _Mac_ she was in love with at the end of the day, and she was cutting him loose. 

It felt weird to hear it actually come from her mouth. Not that he hadn't heard her tell the merc she loved him before, but her stating it unprompted was different, and it hurt a little more than he'd expected. He was so in love with her himself, he just didn't have a plan for this eventuality. It was the one foolish thing he'd allowed himself to cling to in this shithole of a world.

She was cutting him loose. She had to be.

Nora seemed to struggle for words, having taken up one of his hands between both of her own clammy ones. “Like, it's not just-- This isn’t just fun and games to me,” she explained, giving him a squeeze as he stood there silent. “And I… _Fuck_ … This is hard….”

Deacon couldn’t say anything even if he wanted to. He really had nothing he felt he could add, and anything that _might_ come out of his mouth he knew he'd regret. He didn't know where he'd expected this to go, but he'd _hoped_ to just… be with her. That she'd throw Mac to the wayside had never really been a true expectation to him, but to be cast aside _himself,_ when-- 

His love for her was still _very_ much alive and burning. He didn't _want_ this to _end._ He wasn't ready. 

“You’re really special to me, Dee. I-I know we’ve been having fun together, you and I-- but Mac-- he--” 

Her face began to turn red, stuttering with nerves as she tried her best to phrase things delicately, and Deacon just stood there as stoically and patiently as possible even though his instincts were telling him to bolt. Her thumbs rubbed over the back of his palm, nervous in her movements as she had trouble meeting and keeping his eyes under his sunglasses. Why she was doing this here and now, he had no idea, but it was what it was. She needed to just spit it out; rip out his heart quick and fast. It would be the kind thing to do.

She huffed to herself with frustration. “Well, I- him _and_ I that is-- I-I just-- What we have is _real_ is what I'm getting at. So this isn't just some passing fancy when I say-- I-I need to tell you that we _both--”_

“ _Raiders!!_ ” MacCready’s voice called out an alarm moments before voices and shots rang in the air, whistling high above Mac’s vantage point. 

They both dropped their conversation to rush outside, the sound of MacCready’s sniper rifle returning fire amidst raider screams. The shrieks of alarmed ferals joined the sound, and all hell broke loose on both sides.

They shouted to one another as they moved about their cover, MacCready calling down warnings as he could see a better view of the battlefield and the enemies littering it. He took care of the onslaught from the front, and hoped they stuck to the plan even as shit went crazy.

A feral came in from the back and nearly caught Nora by surprise, but Deacon shot it in the chest before it could rake her back with its claws. She called out a thank you before taking aim at what slipped through their barricades, and Deacon protected them from behind.

The ferals didn't see a difference between Nora’s party and the motley group attacking them, and tore to get at them all indiscriminately. The animalistic screams in the air sent chills up her spine worse even than the threats and gleeful shrieks of the raiders. There were ferals from both directions; the ones at the front at least tangling with the raiders. The ones she'd been concerned about coming through the back did just that.

“Watch your six!” Mac called down as a feral head exploded right behind Deacon. The merc was moving around up top, killing raider and feral alike and making sure nothing could get the drop on them without him knowing first. It bought Deacon a few seconds.

The spy took a fraction of a second to be shocked by the warm mess at his feet before scrambling away to better cover, hearing bullets hit old concrete and heavy footfalls intermingled with howls and screams. It was a goddamn _mess._

“Fucking _assholes,”_ Nora swore under her breath as she rolled behind a halfway-fallen wall for cover. She could hear the sound of Mac’s rifle and Deacon’s .45 magnum taking shots, unique amidst raider pipe rifles and feral screams. This was getting messy and it was only going to get worse if they didn't do something quickly to end it.

The raiders who'd surprised them weren't faring as well as they might've hoped, and there were more ferals than initially expected what with all hell breaking loose. They had raiders running _towards_ their hidey-hole, either to kill them or to shelter from ferals or _both-_ and Nora saw her chance as the rotting and heavily-armed threats were well-past the choke point where she'd initially wanted them to make their strike. 

“ _Grenade!”_ she called out, pulling the pin and chucking it at the crowd as she immediately turned and ran madly for cover.

The blast tore through her targets like tissue paper, but one of the raiders must've been carrying the same ordinance as the explosion that followed rattled the entire area. Foundation cracked and a dilapidated wall fell over on the same building she was hiding in, screams dying or abruptly cut off in the resultant cloud of debris as the edges of her choke point were reduced to absolute rubble.

She got to her feet from where she'd taken shelter, a little shaky at the unexpected force of the blast, and tried to make sense in the following silence of the damage done. Visibility was just about null.

“Sound off!! You guys alright?!” Nora’s voice rang through the ruins, dust clouds and old mortar obscuring their visibility. Her ears rang and she coughed in the dust, but she was more concerned about the other two with her. Everything was silent; no screams of ferals _or_ raiders. It made her sick until a voice called out.

“I'm here!” Deacon called out with a cough, finding his feet and still reeling from the blast that had knocked him on his ass. He couldn’t see though, and realized a fine layer of dust had settled on his sunglasses. He removed them to clean the dust before putting them back on.

“Mac?” There was no answer, and Nora’s voice highered in pitch with uncertainty of fear. “Mac answer me!”

“Hey MacCready, where are ya?!” Deacon called with another cough as they picked through the mess and still-settling clouds. Body parts and gore were amidst the rubble, mostly identifiable as feral or raider, but still no Mac. Deacon’s heart skipped a beat as he spotted the sniper’s hat, and nearby was the younger man himself, pinned halfway underneath debris. “ _Boss!_ Here!” 

MacCready’s entire lower half and most of his chest was covered, the sniper breathing but unresponsive. Either he'd been knocked cold or he was unable to answer, and Deacon was scrambling to pull big pieces of corrugated metal and concrete bricks off of him. A scream of pain signaled that he'd surfaced, and the sniper began coughing and gasping amidst the dust as Deacon did his best to free him.

“Mac! Mac where-- where does it--” Nora didn't finish her sentence as she caught sight of him. Asking where he was hurt was stupid as she saw just how he was pinned. The sniper’s coughs calmed and sputtered a bit, bright red flecks peppered his chin as he breathed quickly, the blood brilliant against the layer of dust settled on him. 

She crouched next to where Deacon was trying to lift the largest piece off him with his back, using her own strength to help lift the heavy piece of structure. Her voice was frantic. “Deacon with me okay?! Lift with me! One, two--”

Mac’s whimpered shout as they just barely managed to lift rang out through the ruins. They weren't strong enough to do much at all aside from relieve pressure, which caused him more pain. Surveying the debris to try and make a lever with pipe or something proved fruitless as nothing was strong enough to use to get the slab off him.

Mac’s eyes were bright with pain as he said her name, and she started shaking with true fear as she tried to formulate a plan that would somehow end with him _living._

“Nora… I can't-- I can't feel my legs--”

“Fuck, it'll be okay. It'll be okay. We're gonna get you out--”

“I think something’s-- something’s really wrong…”

“Hang on, man, we’re gonna get you out, alright? Hang in there.”

“Nora… I need you to... _promise me…_ ”

“Don't you _even_ start talking like that Robert Joseph,” she said with angry tears as they couldn’t get him free, taking his one untrapped-hand and kissing his dusty knuckles as her brain was frantic to fix this. She looked at Deacon with desperation. “I- We need to get help.”

“I'll go--”

“No, I'm faster than you, I--” Mac’s groaned whimper of pain interrupted her thought process. “We need tools. People. Stimpacks.”

Mac grunted, swallowing hard as he squeezed her hand. “Don't-- don't bother, it's--” He winced. “I'm… I’m hurt _real_ bad….”

“I'll be _right back_ and you'll be fine and we'll wait on you hand and foot after we get you out, _okay_? You're going to be _all right.”_

Mac ignored her words. He’d never had an injury this bad before, but he knew deep in his gut that he wouldn't be walking away from this. 

The burning sensation up his spine had turned to a cold numbness. He could taste copper, fairly certain something somewhere had pierced through him, but in the mess of bright, electric hot pain, he couldn't even tell. Everything was too bright. His heart beat fast and he felt dizzy. Probably losing blood, his brain supplied. “...Duncan… Will you…?”

“ _Stop,”_ she said, voice shaking and tears coming to her eyes at his tone. “I'm going to get help and you're going to be _fine.”_

She was shaking as she got to her feet, stripping herself of anything inessential to speed her fleetness of foot. They could handle this. They were _going_ to handle this. She wasn't going to lose Mac. Not now.

“Deacon…” her voice choked out, harder to keep it together. “Protect him, please. Do what you can and I’ll come back with help. Don't- don't let him--”

Her lower lip was trembling and she didn't want to accept his dying as a possibility. At their feet lay every last syringe and hypo of Med-X, stimpack, and anything else they could try that she'd dumped from her person. These stims alone wouldn't do shit with the way he was hurt though. She needed a-- a freaking _miracle_ at this point.

“I'll keep him safe no matter what. Just- Whatever you're gonna do, _hurry_ Nora.” 

Deacon meant the words. He really did. He _liked_ MacCready. He didn't want him to die just because he was fucking her. His convenience wasn't worth the young sniper’s life. He wanted to get him out, and the sounds of pain leaving the other man's lips sent thrills of terror up his spine.

Nora left the scene at a wild sprint as Deacon sat there, trying to make the younger man comfortable and trying not to notice the trail of crimson oozing down the dusty floor from the awkward angle Mac lay at. Even all the stimpacks in the world wouldn't help if they didn't get him a transfusion too, and there were no bloodpacks anywhere even close that he could think of. Nora better have a stash somewhere secret nearby, or Mac wasn't going to make it regardless of what they did.

God that was a lot of blood.

“Deacon… I gotta tell ya somethin’….”

Deacon was giving him a small amount of Med-X to dull the pain, but couldn't give him the full stimpack until they got him out. The healing process wasn't going to be pretty, if he even survived it, but wherever he was bleeding from, it needed to _stop. “Heeey_ come on now Mackers, don't get like that. This is just a little setback. You know the boss always comes through, yeah?”

Mac smiled at the nickname, blood showing pink on his teeth. It made Deacon’s gut wrench in fear. Had the wall fallen on the other man a bit more to the left, and his head would've been crushed. As it was, the sniper was going to succumb to internal bleeding before anything else judging by the amount in his mouth.

If it didn't all bleed out down the floor, that is.

“Deacon…? ….take care of Nora, okay? ...She- she deserves... Make her happy...”

“I-I what?”

Mac offered another tight smile in lieu of the laugh he'd have liked to do at the look on Deacon’s face. He was aware that his chest hurt, but he'd stopped feeling his legs some time ago. Whether they were dust or he was just paralyzed, he didn't know, and supposed it didn't matter. He wasn't going to finish out the day, and even if they got him out, whatever kind of future he thought possible would be short-lived. Paralyzed, broken body. The wasteland would kill him without even breaking a sweat.

“She… she didn't get to tell you?” He snorted. “...goddamn raiders…”

“I don't… I don’t… _MacCready…”_

“Might- might be my only chance-- Say how I feel…” he hissed at the effort to speak.

Deacon thought this was it: Mac was going to use his last breaths to tell him how much he hated him, that he knew what he'd been doing, and how _could_ he? That he thought they were friends, allies, compatriots- whatever he would throw back at the spy. Make Nora happy, because she deserved it, but fuck you in particular, pal.

“Hey now, come on. This isn't your last nothin’ Creaders. You're gonna be okay.” Deacon tried to comfort him, fear over Mac’s life more important than his own dignity, hand clasped over Mac’s one not trapped in rubble. The sniper's own grasp was weak, and dammit but Deacon didn't know what to do. He just didn't want him to die.

Mac shook his head just barely, a blood-tinged smile on his face. “...I'm… I’m in love with you…” MacCready grinned at Deacon’s blank expression. Made properly speechless for probably the first time in his life, and clearly not expecting _that_ of all things. Mac thought he should get a damn prize for doing the impossible. He would've liked to have this with Deacon. He really would. “...heh…. we _both_ are… Nora too. She was… She was supposed to tell you…”

Deacon wasn't sure he'd heard right, but the smile Mac gave him and the weak squeeze to his hand jarred him into speaking.

“Wait, you love me?”

Mac gave him a little smirk. “‘Course I do…. just… I know I'm not as fast… fast as she is... in _showing_ it… We’re a pretty shy pair of assholes…”

This was too much. This was far too much. Unexpected? He wasn't even sure there _was_ a word for this kind of shock. “Wait-- are you saying-- You’re okay with me and Nora?”

Mac looked momentarily confused before wincing in pain. “I’m the one who… who brought it up first… But I move slower than she does… but yeah… heh… Shit timing, I know…”

“Swear jar overflow…” Deacon muttered on reflex. “What do you… Why…?”

He couldn't shrug, but the same feeling was communicated in his facial expression. “I just wanted to tell you…. While I still can… The timing _really_ sucks. Sorry.”

“Why?” Deacon asked, and it was clear he didn't mean _why_ Mac wanted him to know, but why on earth Mac _loved_ him-- or really _both_ of them. He was a goddamn mess. He thought he'd been willfully betraying the other man this entire time. That none of it was mutual. But now?

All the smiles, the familiar touches, beers in the evening and playful teasing… The goddamn mirelurk eggs... He'd been _flirting._ More or less in the same manner Nora had gotten more handsy with him as time had passed, if he thought about it. It was the same thing. Deacon had been too wrapped up in his own stupid subterfuge willing to betray the other man's trust; he'd missed things for what they really were.

Deacon was an idiot. A goddamn blind idiot. 

“...You're so damn sketchy… thing about snipers… we’re patient though…” he told him with a bloody smirk. “I've seen the way you… you look at her… at me…” He gave an amused, bloody smirk. “You know what she told me?”

Deacon just shook his head, his mind going to pieces over how he'd thought things were, how they _really_ were, and how they might've been if Mac wasn't trapped the way he was. This was such a goddamn waste. He wanted him to live more than anything else.

“She said--” He had to pause to almost laugh, the sound harsh and pained, “eye-fucking like that… Everyone should get that look once… in their lives…”

Deacon offered a somber grin, a nod to the sunglasses on his face as he couldn't believe this, but he gave Mac’s hand a squeeze anyways. “I never take these off buddy, but nice try. You pull through this and I'll give you that look though, okay?”

MacCready grinned, undeterred. “You were cleaning them, she said… Back in Diamond City… That time I was gonna…. punch Arturo in face...”

Deacon remembered that, actually. The arms dealer was always an incorrigible flirt who maybe had a few boundary issues with what was and wasn't okay to say. Nora had tasked Mac with getting them stocked, and Deacon had been waiting in the shadows of home plate for the pair when Mac had grabbed Arturo by front of his shirt.

Yeah, he did remember looking an eye full as MacCready was apparently stronger than he looked, and capable as hell. It was attractive as shit, he had to admit, watching the way the ex-Gunner commanded the use of his body with every ounce of confidence a man twice his size might possess. Which had then lead to some… other thoughts of fancy.

The fact he could remember what Mac was talking about only made this whole fucked up situation hurt worse. “MacCready….”

“I wish I'd told you sooner… when we could've done something about it… It was always okay…”

“Stop talking like that,” Deacon immediately took up, feeling like he was being pulled in two separate directions and all for nothing. This was so completely unexpected and squeezed at his heart that he didn’t even have time to process how he felt about Mac proper. 

But he wanted Mac to _live._ That much was absolutely certain. 

“Nora is gonna come back with some amazing doctor or vertibird or whatever and you're gonna _live_ and I'm gonna let you do something about it, okay? A whole lot of-- of-- _something.”_

Mac snorted, but he gave the older man's hand a squeeze. “Since when… are you so opti- optimistic?”

Since he was scared shitless was when. Since he was actually so scared MacCready wasn't going to make it that he didn't even have time to even be properly surprised that the younger man was in love with him. He'd done his fair share of looking, _yeah._ MacCready was an attractive man, but Nora had just gotten there first. He'd been so caught up in the attention, the careful way of hiding what _they_ were doing, that he'd completely missed Mac’s own interest in him.

All the sneaking, all the guilt, all the worry over betraying an actual _friend_ , and all for naught. What a goddamn waste.

“It's one of my best, oft-overlooked traits,” he joked even as Mac winced at another spike of pain. “Hey, just look at me, okay? You just stay with me, Mackers.”

“All I see’s… an ugly mug trapped… under a damn wall…” The sound MacCready made couldn't honestly be classified as a chuckle; it was pained and weak and rasping. And the blood… 

Deacon removed his reflective sunglasses, and Mac’s face actually brightened. The spy might not be able to do much, but that little gesture seemed to mean the world to the sniper. 

“...Hi…”

Deacon couldn't hide the pain on his face as he held Mac’s hand, the other man grinning like he'd won the damn pre-war World Series as he looked up at Deacon. He didn't have a joke in him for such an earnest expression. It hurt too much. And _damn_ what a fucking _waste_ everything was.

“...Those sunglasses gotta go…”

“Get well enough to take ‘em from me and I'll think about it,” Deacon told him.

Mac weakly grinned at that, but stopped talking altogether after a short while, still breathing though very-labored; eyes half-closed, but still _alive_. It was tearing Deacon apart. When the younger man stopped responding to him was when the panic really began to set in, and Deacon gave him the stimpack as close to the pinned part of his body beneath the rubble as possible. Even if it caused more pain, or a wound healed around anything piercing him, it would be worth it to close any wounds as things got worse. It didn't make the sniper respond, though.

Mac blacked out fully after the rescue team Nora brought back was able to remove the rubble from him. He might've been slowly slipping into black before, but the removal of the heavy slab pricked at every nerve gasping for freedom that was crushed below, and it brought him up just long enough to scream before unconsciousness took him.

His screams were sounds Nora had never heard before, inhuman in their pain, but as pieces were removed and pressure returned, he felt every stretch, break, and ruin that was his lower half, and the _real_ pain and convulsions to his body set in. Giving in to the pulling darkness had been a damned blessing, and he stopped responding altogether after that.

Nora had a continual stream of tears down her face even as the settlers she'd gathered pulled things off him, working fast and diligently as she caused one of the men she loved some of the worst pain in existence. Seeing the pooling blood beneath him when he was gotten free, and the mess of his limbs at unnatural angles and density made her sick in her gut at the impossibility of saving him.

But she had a plan, and it was called Jack Cabot’s mystery serum, and by god it had better do for MacCready what it did for the Cabots or she was going to burn that entire part of the commonwealth to the ground. 

A bag full of stimpacks and even blood packs had been pooled together from the settlers, and overdosing him would make Mac sick as hell, but if everything knit his broken body back together, she'd do it a hundred times over.

She was injecting Jack Cabot’s serum into Mac’s limp and ruined body as soon as Deacon had pulled him free, and the rubble was dropped by the four who'd helped them get him out. There was bright red blood out his gaping mouth, and she couldn't look at his legs without wanting to throw up, but they set up a triage right then and there and wasted no time cutting, bandaging, and injecting the younger man to save him.

He was still breathing at least, and as his body twitched unnaturally as the serum took effect, they listened and watched with sickening feelings as pops and muted-sounds came from inside his body. One of the settlers threw up at the instant-fix, and certainly they'd all have nightmares after this, but it was _working._ Mac’s body was repairing itself.

“Everything will set itself, once it starts, but I don't want to move him again once he's awake,” Nora decided with authority through tears as they loaded him onto a makeshift litter of shirts and old pipe. “Let's hurry and get him back to the settlement.”

The ruined places Mac had been more noodle than solid were stiffening up in a healthy way so they could actually touch him. Shattered bone was righting itself, injuries were healing, scratches closing, and blood stopped seeping from his person. He was a mess, but he would live.

Deacon took point and Nora brought up the rear as three of the settlers carried Mac, and the other held blood packs up for continual flow as his body came to rights. They brought him back to the settlement, and began working once again to clean and secure the young man at death’s door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment if you're enjoying this! I only post when there's interest :) You can leave a comment on anon or hit that kudos button here even if you don’t have an ao3 account :) the email is only so you can get any replies I might make to your comment, but ao3 doesn't link/show/display your email in any way :) 
> 
> More info on leaving comments on anon on ao3 [here](https://archiveofourown.org/faq/comments-and-kudos?language_id=en#anoncomment).
> 
> [my tumblr](http://purge-that-urge-rhackathon.tumblr.com/) | [my fic masterlist archive](http://purge-that-urge-rhackathon.tumblr.com/post/134979026515/poisonjack-ao3-fic-archive)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a rough, embarrassing day at work. Any comments are more than appreciated since im trying to distract my anxiety-laden mind haha

“Deacon….?”

The spy looked up at Nora’s voice from where he'd been standing over the bed in which MacCready lay unconscious. 

They were in one of the refurbished cabins at her settlement in Sunshine Co-op. Everything was peaceful as the settlers gave them their privacy, the emergency more or less handled, and now they were playing the waiting game for the younger man to wake up.

Nora’s gaze met Deacon’s as she still stood just within the doorway, and she looked about ready to go to pieces, lower lip trembling as she stood where she was.

“ _Hey now_.” He opened his arms to her and before she could even get in them she'd started crying in earnest. Her body shook with pain-filled sobs as he wrapped both arms around her, and he patted her back to try and reassure her. He was still left reeling from everything himself, trying to come to terms with what they’d seen; what he’d been told. But she was obviously feeling it far worse in his opinion. 

“I just-- I-I just--” Her sobs shook her as he held her, _finally_ able to indulge the luxury of crying now that everything had been handled. The severity of it all hit her like a ton of bricks.

Deacon’s voice was level, soothing as he stroked her hair and kissed the side of her face. “It's okay now. It's all okay.”

“I know, I _just_ \--” Her voice hitched and she tried to hold in the sobs, but it only resulted in some truly class-A ugly crying if she thought so herself. She pressed herself closer to him, face in his neck as she spoke through the sobs. “I just-- _I can't lose either of you._ I can't go through that again-- I _can't--”_

“Don't worry,” he spoke a lot more calmly than he felt, kissing the side of her face; felt awkward with Mac right there, but according to the sniper, it was nothing to feel such over, right? “You got to him in time. You’re not losing anyone, gorgeous. I-- We’re both here.”

He hugged her closer, rubbing tight circles in her back and kissing her face as she cried hard. 

It took some minutes to calm-- to get it all out- and Deacon’s shirt was pretty wet with her tears after, but the comfort and reassurance he'd afforded her was worth all the ruined shirts in the world.

She scrubbed her hands over her eyes as he still held her, though a bit looser, and she gave a little huff at the state of his t-shirt. Her thumbs brushed over the worn collar, trying to bring herself back. “...sorry.”

“Eh, don’t be. This thing’s seen better days,” he offered with a somber smile. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, and she hugged him once more. “All of ours have. Tell ya what… Once Casanova over there is up and about, we’ll all go down to the river, pop some rad-X, and get ourselves squeaky-clean, huh?”

His words had their intended effect, and she lightly chuckled at the idea before turning her attention back to Mac’s prone form. They both looked at him as he laid on the bed, breathing easy with color back in his cheeks after all their efforts.

She'd set up a blood pack his body was still slowly accepting through the IV in his arm, more than halfway gone now. Jack’s serum would have completely healed Mac, of course, but the merc would need to _survive_ the healing process itself to see the benefit, and he’d lost so much blood.

Mac was so weak already, Nora wasn't taking any chances of tipping the scales, and had bolstered the serum with stims and blood and a tiny bit of med-X to keep him asleep through it all. His body had soaked up two transfusions like desert sand by the time they’d gotten him settled, but he was breathing easier since the initial injection, if not still unconscious.

She still couldn't stop shaking.

Deacon pulled aside one of the chairs he’d forgone sitting in, patting it for Nora to take a seat next to Mac’s bedside. She did so, and he put his hands on her shoulders and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. She covered one of Deacon’s hands with her own as she sat staring at Mac’s rhythmic breathing, telling herself it would be fine; _he_ would be fine.

Deacon felt oddly detached from the situation, like watching himself in a role he didn’t quite fully understand yet. He was still reeling over everything that had happened and everything that was _still_ happening, as Nora leaned forward to grasp Mac’s sleeping hand. She pressed a kiss to it and rubbed her thumb over the back of his palm before reaching over her shoulder for Deacon’s once more.

“Uh, so, hey…” Deacon started softly, his thumb rubbing over her hand as he held it on her shoulder. “I know I have a reputation to keep up with a penchant for absolutely shit-timing, but… about before…”

Nora turned to him, wishing she could see his eyes to have any sort of inkling of his feelings. The tightness at his mouth, the way he held himself-- any of it could have been because of Mac’s close call, honestly. “Dee…” She took a breath, looked back at Mac, back at Deacon, and felt her eyes prick with moisture once more. “Sorry, I wanted to-- heh, if any of us has shit timing, it’s _me.”_

He gave a little chuckle at that, and gave her hand another squeeze. “Mac, uh… He was saying an awful lot there… while we waited for you.” He could feel the barest bit of heat come into his cheeks at the thought; that she’d known what she was doing with him from the start. “A-- _wow it was a lot.”_

Nora snorted lightly, a soft little smile on her tear-streaked face as they looked at one another. She took his hand from her shoulder to rest the back of it on her cheek, then linked their fingers. “...did he?” He grunted in response, and she looked back up at him earnestly. “I was trying to tell you… before everything went to hell… He cares for you a lot, you know? We, uh, we both do…”

“He said he was in love with me.” Deacon felt stupid, stating it so plainly; so without any pomp and circumstance that that in of itself was as insane as any one of his lies any day of the week. 

Nora’s mouth hung open just a bit in soft surprise, her tear-stained cheeks becoming just a little flushed. “And are you… okay with that?” A little half-hysterical laugh left him, and she stood and tugged him into her arms to press a reassuring kiss to his jaw and then his cheek. A hand was at the side of his throat, feeling the quickness of his heart. She pressed another kiss to his chin, studying him carefully; her turn to comfort. “I know its a lot to take in. I know you're… _shy_ ,” she said diplomatically, “and I didn't want to scare you away, but…”

He looked at MacCready lying unconscious on the bed, back at Nora’s tear-stained, dirt-smudged face, and let out a little sigh. Scary was one word for it, but whatever feelings he had in the matter weren’t all unwelcome. “I'm gonna be completely honest for once and tell you I'm very confused about all of this, gorgeous.”

Her brow furrowed and her face cycled through a variety of worried emotions. “Is that… In a bad way?”

He thought of the flirting Mac had been doing when he’d been too dumb to notice it for what it was. All the time Nora had let him make love to her. The eye-fucking he’d given Mac in the Diamond City marketplace…. 

He offered a smirk. “No… not bad at all. I'm just-- It's hard to understand…” He took a moment to gather himself, sighing loudly as if he could dispel some of the guilt like so much steam. “I thought that all this time… I assumed we'd been messing around behind his back,” he admitted, the truthful words leaving a disgusting taste in his mouth. He didn’t look at her eyes even behind his sunglasses. Regardless of how others might see him, he still had _some_ shame. 

“Deacon… honey...”

“And I just…. l’ve felt so fucking _guilty,_ on top of everything else I’ve done. I mean the lies are one thing-- a _survival_ thing- but- and I'd never want to hurt him but I just-- I couldn't stop myself when it came to you,” he laughed self-deprecatingly. “And now…” He gestured and gave a nervous little laugh. “It’s a lot to process… And doesn’t make me any less of a bastard.”

Nora gave him a look. “Dee… you’re a-- You are _very_ nice to look at,” she said with a little laugh, “but I never would have gone after you if Mac didn’t say something first,” she finished with a self-introspective frown. “Not to mention, he has _had it_ for you for a while…” Her lips quirked up as she shot a look at Mac again, her eyes filling with tears again even though she was smiling. “Maybe it’s all incredibly self-serving just so he can get his hands on you,” she said with a teary laugh.

He held her close, thinking on her words, and she spoke into his neck as she pressed close for comfort. “Point is, it’s _all_ okay. I didn't want-- I don't know, this whole thing is kind of intimidating and I didn't want to scare you off by just laying everything at your feet, but I- _I love you,_ you know? I just love you.” 

“And Mac?”

“He loves you too, but I think you already know that,” she said as she pulled away to look at his face with a questioning smile. 

“That’s not exactly what I meant…” he murmured, trying to still wrap his mind around this-- around _everything_ he’d thought he’d been doing and what was _actually_ going on. “It’s… Can we actually do this…?”

“Technically we already have been. You just didn’t know it. _Some spy,”_ she said with a little laugh, and another look back at Mac. She gave Deacon a squeeze, blinking her tears away. “He thought-- well, you were probably less of a flight risk if I was the one that approached you first…”

Deacon snorted. “In all honesty, I’d have probably booked it if you _both_ came at me like that, regardless.”

She put a hand on his chest, rubbing up to his shoulder and back, somber smile on her face. “You like him. I know you do. Whether or not you come to love either of us-- we can’t force that and we know it, but… We can try?”

“Nora…” Deacon felt his heart clench in his chest, face going red behind his sunglasses as she looked at him with an open readiness for whatever he was about to give her. “I… _fuck_ I’m really not good at this…” His hands kneaded at her flesh as he held her, but she waited patiently for him to gather the words or the verve or whatever he needed. 

Her voice was soft as she studied the wet patches on his shirt. “It’s okay. We both-- I don't want to be apart from you when we can help it. Neither does Mac. We work best together, we anticipate each other. It-- We've got a good thing going between us all, so, why not take it further?” Her cheeks were completely red, and she felt as if her words were awfully idealistic; childish in their simplicity. But it only got a huge grin from the older man, and he laughed a little in a way she knew wasn’t directed at her.

“...I want this so much I’m not sure it’s right…”

She was hugging him then, hard and close, and kissing his face, unable to contain herself. He was giving in. She knew he was, even if it scared him. “It is. It’s right. It’s more than right. I'm so sorry this took so long, Dee. I was trying to tell you all this before we got attacked. I didn't-- We both love you. Just know you’re loved, and we don’t want to force you into anything that doesn’t come naturally.”

“You're welcome to try,” he invited with a smirk.

She gave him a squeeze and a fond little snort. “This isn’t just… I don’t know, Dee-” she laughed a little, eyes still sparkling with tears, “-it’s not just some weird kinky thing between the three of us.”

Deacon snorted. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Nora smiled. “I mean, like, locking this in at three and throwing away the key. Mac feels the same.” She looked down at their hands. “I love you and Mac, and he loves the both of us regardless. It’s all… It just feels right.”

“What would the neighbors say?”

“No neighbors around, everyone’s dead,” she said sardonically, offering him a wily little smirk. “The wasteland isn’t like before, that’s for damn sure.”

He snorted, still feeling like an asshole, but a burgeoning warmth in his chest was spreading out to the rest of him as he gave the unconscious sniper a considering look. “Where do we go from here?”

“He’s got some ideas…”

Deacon had to admit his interest was peaked at the little sparkle in those wet eyes. He cocked his head, and looked at the other man in the bed. He wondered what kind of machinations that the sniper could have for him that he’d never even guessed at. “How do you mean?”

“Well… Something like him, me, and you, on a little farm… nice and safe…” she said with a faraway look, gaze distant though she was looking at his shirt. “...a few more kids for Duncan to play with…” her eyes darted up to his sunglasses, wishing he had the damn things off, before focusing on his collar, a little heat in her cheeks. “....put up his gun and your disguises and live a little domestic life together.” Her smile was wide, eyes shining, but she couldn't laugh at something so simple and equally so damn hard. “....Like something from before the bombs dropped.”

“That sounds fake.”

She laughed at his bluntness, and offered him a grin. “It's what he wants.” Nora gave Deacon’s hand a squeeze. “That doesn't mean-- I mean, I want _both_ of you. Mac wants both of us. I can't- I mean I can't decide _for_ you, and the future is still the future.... You don't have to- to-- to…. _He just loves you so much-_ ” She started to cry again, a little too overwhelmed with emotion over thoughts of ‘what if’, and the fact MacCready had almost lost his life today.

Deacon brought her hand to his mouth and kissed the back of her palm. “Come on now, boss. Tell me again how you both think I'm so pretty.”

He succeeded in making her laugh, still trying to come to terms with all of this as she struggled with words, taking a deep breath so she could speak evenly. “The only one who stares at your ass half as much as me is Mac,” she laughed softly. “Look, I love you. You can go at your own pace, okay? We- we've got all the time in the world.” She got a little choked up at that, looking down at Mac’s resting body. “Just… Will you think about it?”

“I don't need to.”

 _“Deacon--_ ”

“I'd like to… try all this.”

“Try?”

He huffed. Might as well pull out the stops. “I love you, Nora, and that’s no lie. I've loved you for some time. And I- I do like Mac... a lot. I admire the shit out of him. And yeah, I’ve definitely had more than one impure thought at that… He’s good-looking,” he said with a little nervous laugh that made her grin wide. “I'd like to… It doesn't end well for bastards like me, even too much to hope, but damn I'd like to try this. All of it. All of _us.”_

“...Does that mean… I can have a kiss?”

Nora and Deacon’s startled heads both shot to Mac’s face where the sniper was looking at them with tired, half-lidded eyes and breathing the deep, half-coherent breaths of someone barely awake.

Deacon’s entire face went tato-red, and Nora immediately fussed over the sniper as Mac tried to stretch and took great big breaths as he properly woke up. “How do you feel? Are you okay? Does everything feel okay?” Nora’s eyes were quickly filling with tears again, sobs threatening to come again that she held back as he winced and groaned-- fairly _normal_ noises as far as the younger man’s waking habits were concerned.

“...Feels like a deathclaw chewed me up and spit me out,” he groaned, wincing once, but overall he wasn't in any pain. He was a little shocked and confused, but Nora’s hand on his face, her smile as she pet at him… He knew everything was alright.

“I’ll get you some more med-X,” she said with relieved tears in her eyes, pressing a kiss to his face and running her fingers through his hair. “Are you hungry? Thirsty? Do you want anything?”

“...Actually… I’m freaking starving.”

Nora pressed another kiss to his head and then his lips, hugging him once gently as she lowered herself proper to the bed. She kissed him once more before rising, her relief making her reluctant to go, but eager to get him whatever he needed. “I’m gonna get you something nice honey, okay? Just sit tight.”

She stood and gave Deacon a look, pausing, but then pressed a kiss to his cheek as well, muttering how she’d be right back, and left them together as she walked out the cabin’s wooden doorway.

Deacon was uncharacteristically silent as Mac lay there breathing tiredly, watching him and assuming he was watching back from behind those sunglasses. The younger man gave him a smirk. “You know… They say you can kiss it better when you're hurt.”

“You can kiss my ass,” Deacon told him before he sat in the lone chair by his bedside, taking up Mac’s hand between his own and kissing his knuckles with raw relief. He was grateful he was okay. He was _so_ grateful that he didn't even know what to say. Relief shockingly cut through him like a hot knife through butter, and he didn’t let go of the other man’s hand just yet.

“...Be nice, I've had a hard day,” Mac joked, and it got him another kiss to the knuckles; a squeeze of Deacon’s hand.

The spy was silent for a few moments, trying to gather words that wouldn’t come. He chose a different path. “You scared Nora real bad.”

“Yeah… scared me too.” Mac blinked up at him a few moments, wondering what secrets Deacon’s eyes held behind those damn sunglasses on his red, red face. He gave his hand a squeeze back. This had to be difficult for Deacon. He wanted him to be at comfort with him, and that meant clearing the air between them. “Sorry for… being a chickenshit and all… This wasn't how I wanted to tell you about… stuff… ya know?”

“No I--” All the guilt came rising up, and he _had_ to let some of it out. Not enough to hurt the other man, but enough to let some pressure free. “I am so sorry, MacCready. I just-- I didn't notice.”

“...Too busy looking at Nora’s ass, and I’d know. We've been keeping a tally.”

“Swear jar,” Deacon muttered with a snort. He wasn't sure if he could go anymore red, but he felt like an asshole over everything, and this level of… well, _feelings_ wasn’t something he’d had to deal with in the open for a very long time.

“I'm allowed to swear right now… I was crushed by a wall.”

“Don't say-- _Dont.”_

Mac’s thumb brushed over the back of Deacon’s hand, and he offered him an apologetic smile. “Yeah… So…. Um… Where are we right now?”

“Sunshine Co-op.”

“Ah.”

They were silent again, and Mac breached it once more. “Do um…. Did you really mean that before? When I was-- uh… About letting me do something about… this?” he finished weakly with a squeeze of Deacon’s hand for meaning.

Deacon actually chuckled. He was still shaken, still guilt-ridden, and _still_ shocked about his luck for what a bastard he was. The things welling up inside him were too much to deal with yet. He fell back on old routines. “Why Mr. MacCready, are you asking to court me? I'll need to put on my Sunday best before I can allow something like that. What will the neighbors think?”

“...what in the hell is a Sunday best?”

Deacon just grinned. 

Mac snorted at his silence. “It’s-- I know this whole thing _is_ kind of jarring…”

“I think that's the understatement of the year, and that's coming from _me_ ,” Deacon said with a bit more good humor in his voice than he'd expected. “I mean, I don't think anyone's ever survived what you did, Mack-attack. You're gonna end up a modern-day wasteland legend.”

Mac’s eyes darted to Deacon’s face, seeing his own stupid pout reflected in the sunglasses, and looked away just as quickly. “I wasn't talking about _that….”_ Deacon chose that moment to squeeze his hand yet again, and Mac could feel his own face turn very, very red. Deacon knew what he was talking about. He might not say it, but Mac didn’t need words to understand him. “I just… I mean I know that kind of… _probably_ looked like it came out of nowhere… I didn't want to, like, force my feelings on you. I just… _heh_ … kind of thought I was dead there.”

Deacon’s smirk was a bit cynical, but he encompassed Mac’s hand between both of his now, patting the back of his palm. “That's really sweet and all, MacCready, but I _really_ need you to know this-” He paused and Mac looked at him a little too keenly. Deacon grinned mercilessly. “Your face is as red as a Nuka-cola sign right now and it’s _really_ amusing.”

Mac shot a quick glare his way that more or less lost its heat entirely seeing his own red cheeks in Deacon’s sunglasses. He looked away again while Deacon laughed and gave the other man’s thigh a pat this time. Little steps. 

“...I was trying to be serious…” Mac muttered. 

Deacon chuckled, letting a little of that nervous energy out even though he sat easily composed next to the other man. He still felt guilty as hell on numerous, many levels. He owed the sniper an explanation. “Sorry... It’s a defense mechanism. I--” He took a deep breath. Whatever this was-- or could be- he needed the sniper to _understand_ him, _before_ taking any new steps or embracing anything. Even if he was more open to it than he’d ever expected.

He still felt like a scumbag. Pretty sure he was even if Mac had known about him and Nora from the start. That didn’t forgive what he’d thought he was doing. “I… I never wanted you to get hurt-”

“That explosion was hardly your fault,” Mac interrupted with an exasperated frown.

Deacon shook his head. “I’m not talking about that and you know it.” Mac had the decency to look honestly confused, and Deacon wondered _just_ how much of their conversation the younger man remembered or not. “Me, and Nora?” Mac just shrugged, expecting him to get on with it. “I... thought this whole time…” He stopped, attacking this whole thing from a different angle. “I’m an asshole, MacCready, and I need you to know what you think you’re getting in to.”

“I’m aware of that,” Mac said with a playful, smug grin. “Still like ya.”

Deacon’s roll of his eyes went missed by the younger man. “This whole time… I thought Nora was messing around behind your back…” No reaction from the sniper. Time to amp it up. “Aaaand I didn’t stop her because I… I-”

He couldn’t say it again, throat choking on the word. This was hard. Especially knowing Nora felt the same way about him. God, he didn’t deserve such good luck.

Mac snorted. “As if _any_ of us could stop Nora from doing what she wants.”

Deacon frowned. “You should be pissed off. This wasn’t like just normal-type lying.” Mac just shrugged. Deacon tried to make him understand. “Like, really MacCready. This is… _was_ … pretty big-time betrayal. I’ve been under the impression for a _while_ that I’ve been totally screwing you over here.” Mac’s brows shot up at those words, smirking at the double entendre there, and Deacon hung his head at the sniper’s amusement. “...are you for goddamn real...?”

Mac’s voice was amused at Deacon’s choice of words, a smile on his face as he spoke. “Sorry, maybe I like you too much to be bothered about something I knew about the entire time.”

Deacon laughed, honestly laughed, and shook his head in disbelief. “You’re an actual idiot if you just forgive me. Who’s to say I wouldn’t do something that awful again? You _should_ be pissed off at what I would willingly do to you. It would be stupid not to.”

“So I’m not the brightest. So what,” he joked, but Deacon didn’t take the bait. Mac tried to sit himself up just enough to make a snatch for Deacon’s sunglasses. He got them, seeing the spy blink at him in open shock while Mac just grinned and held them in his free hand. Deacon didn’t try to retrieve them-- he’d told Mac he could take them off when he was well enough, right? And so he did. “Did you hear me right before? _I’m_ the one who told Nora you’d had your eye on her. And I don’t believe for a second you would’ve tried anything if she _didn’t_ come on to you first. Sooo we might’ve made a little plan. She just moves faster. We’ve been over this.”

Deacon snorted. “...you had no idea if I’d end up liking _you_ or not,” he pointed out. “Or if I even _wanted_ someone other than Nora.”

 _“Really_?” Mac’s tone implied otherwise, and he grinned smugly at Deacon’s eye-roll.

“Yeah yeah, eye-fucking you and actually _doing_ it is _different...”_

Mac just shrugged. “Stuff works out.”

Deacon didn’t know why he was being so damn honorable for once, the importance that Mac understand just what a bad guy he really was-- and what it meant to love someone like that- even if that was what he really, truly wanted deep down. “You shouldn’t be so damn okay with this just because--”

“Why do you think I stayed behind so many times on ops you ran together? Why do you think I’d take watch when I knew she'd be free? Thought it was pretty considerate for only _one_ of us to attack you at a time. Damn you’re stubborn.”

Deacon actually laughed, hand at his temple, unable to raise his gaze to Mac’s own eyes. “Are you telling me you’ve been actively campaigning to get me laid?”

Mac’s grin was wide. “It _might_ have been more self-serving than that, but Nora’s nothing if not persistent.” 

Deacon couldn’t stop the hysterical little laughs that left him, wondering what was taking the woman herself so long to get back to them, and realizing she was probably giving them a bit of space. Mac smirked at him until the other man was reduced to a mild smirk himself. “...I can't believe this…”

The sniper sighed. He was tired, hungry as hell, and exasperated that Deacon couldn’t seem to understand why he’d want him. “Look, I don’t want to force anything here, and… again, I’m sorry for just dumping my feelings like that, but… I’d be open to taking things slow… and see how we get on? If you’re open to the idea… that is…”

“You’re red as a tato now.”

“Oh shut up.” He put Deacon’s glasses on his own face as if to cover his embarrassment. It made the older man grin despite himself, and he wrapped both hands around Mac’s free one.

“Why did you think I'd ever leave Nora for you?” Deacon asked. “If, and or _when,_ you decided to play your hand?”

“ _Leaving_ wasn’t going to ever be on the table,” Mac said confidently. “I feel like you're a man who’ll always take the extras life throws at him, and when the time felt right… Well… Dammit, I knew I went too slow with this....”

“You seem oddly confident that I’d come around to your advances regardless,” Deacon said with snark, though he grinned through his words and offered Mac’s hand another squeeze. It had become clammy in his own, and yeah… he got it.

“I've seen you look at me, and we both know it wouldn't just be _her_ request that would make you say yes to all three of us in bed eventually…. And then, well, nature would take its course.”

“Guess you're not wrong there.”

“And anyways, gut instinct tells me you like me enough to at least give me a chance to prove myself.” His voice maybe wasn't as confident as he'd like it to come off, but his tone was hopeful, waiting for an answer to a question he hadn't asked.

Deacon gave his hand yet another reassuring squeeze; might’ve actually opted for a hug at this point if he had his damn sunglasses. “Hey, I told you I’d let you do something about all these messy feelings if you pulled through, and here we are, soooo…” Deacon offered a cynically hopeful smile. “Hope you don’t regret it.”

“I- _really_?” 

“... _hell_ …. Yes. Just remember I’m a walking disaster of a human being and a fraud to boot.”

“No offense to your winning personality and all, but have you _seen_ how attractive you are?” Mac asked in such a clearly annoyed voice that Deacon was taken aback. “Even if I _wasn't_ used to all your weirdness, well, a man has needs and you're _just_ my type. You don’t have to like me to want me. But I think you do anyways.”

Deacon blinked at that. It was about the most honest, right at the heart of things statement he could’ve possibly said. “I- I am honestly speechless.”

Mac only grinned-- _kind_ of a shit-eating grin, yeah, because for once in his life someone had managed to stun Deacon, and it was _him_ \- but then he spoke in a slightly nervous voice, glad his eyes were hidden behind Deacon’s sunglasses and starting to understand the appeal. “Can I-- I mean, _you don't have to_ \-- I'm perfectly happy you're just here- but can I have a hug at some point?”

Deacon snorted, something in his chest tightening at the lack of guile in such a request. “I thought that was my line.” He bent and got arms under the other man and held him tightly, the solid, strong feel of him compared to the earlier sensation of pulling him free making moisture prick at Deacon’s eyes. He was still reeling a bit that they could've lost him today. Even if he _wasn’t_ on board for everything, MacCready was _still_ a friend and companion and trusted gun at his back, and losing him…. 

He felt awkward, but the reassuring solidness of the sniper-- and the tight closeness in which Mac hugged him back- let him know he was _alive_ and well and they'd gotten through this. He would be okay. They’d all get a second chance. And what a hell of a second chance it would be,

“Hey sweetheart...” Nora said softly as she entered the room again. Both of them looked at her, and Deacon's cheeks went pink as Mac’s own were red. She gave Deacon a smile but didn’t focus on his face. “I brought some food.”

Mac perked up. “Thanks. I'm freakin’ _starving_.”

He should be after everything they'd pumped into him and the damage his body had healed.

She handed him a bowl of noodles and soup, and had even gotten some razorgrain bread with mutfruit jam. Not exactly a feast, but enough to tide him over until she could get better. “I'll get a radstag stew going as soon as possible. We’ve got a hunting party gathered. That should boost your strength.” She bent to kiss his head again as he dug into the little meal, and she linked an arm and then fingers with Deacon’s own hand as the older man still sat there. “Then we’ll head home as soon as we can.” She looked between them, a soft smile growing on her face as Deacon seemed very interested in the pattern of the homemade blanket on Mac’s legs. “...Did you two talk?”

“Yeah,” MacCready said with a mouth full of razorgrain bread, tone satisfied and excited both, and gave a look at Deacon. The spy quickly stole his sunglasses back and plopped them back on his own face.

“You did?” Her tone was pleased as punch. 

Nora gave the spy a little nudge and a kiss on the cheek, and Deacon grew hot with happy chagrin. The sounds of Mac noisily slurping his soup made the older man chuckle. “This is… not how I thought things were gonna go today.”

“Happy you're wrong,” Mac said after audibly swallowing. Nora rolled her eyes, but smiled. “So when we get back, can I show you a trick with mutfruit?”

Nora’s cheeks went a little pink as her mouth opened unbidden. “ _Robert Joseph…_!”

Deacon looked between them, a smirk growing on his face as Nora turned red and Mac looked pleased as damn punch. “It’s a sex-thing, isn’t it?”

Nora looked behind her, as if concerned one of the settlers would hear them. Prude she was not, but the mutfruit trick was another level _entirely_ , and something she was not about to explain to any prying ears. The wicked smirk on Mac’s own face, even as he was setting down his dishes and laying back down-- tired from the meal- was downright _dirty._

Deacon was _certain_ it was a sex-thing. But if Nora didn’t want to elaborate, her silence worth a thousand words, then Deacon could have a _little_ fun with it. “Why yes, MacCready. I should very much like to see any tricks you can show me with a mutfruit. Sounds very informative.”

Nora’s snort broke them all into cathartic snickers, and she muscled Mac’s legs over so she could sit on the edge of the bed, a fond look for both of them and a hand in each of their own. 

Mac was okay-- would be strong enough to travel back to Sanctuary in a couple days- and there was nothing to hide, nothing to sneak around about, and an openness between the three for the first time that Deacon had to admit he was very keen on exploring. 

What slowness he needed to take, he could, _or_ jumping right headlong into the mutfruit trick-- which was a very rewarding experience indeed- he also could. It was scary-- _terrifying_ , actually- but Deacon was never more glad to have had such a wrong idea about things, and no, it wasn’t hard to be loved by both of them, or show them love back. 

He was still a bastard in his opinion, yeah, but with how merciless Mac could be in bed, and how Nora goaded him on, only to be smothered in kisses and hugs later, Deacon was pretty sure he was in good company. 

And when he found the tables to be turned, and found once again that he couldn’t stop himself, _this time_ he didn’t hate himself for it. And with the way Nora and MacCready loved on him, he didn’t think he ever would again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on tumblr. I take requests and even fill them from time to time xD I've got panic disorder and writing is a good outlet for that anxiousness :)
> 
> Please leave a comment if you've read and enjoyed the story :) Doesn't matter if it's been years since this was put up (not that anyone comments after the first week T_T), but I read and treasure every single comment i get <3 THANK!
> 
> [my fallout tumblr](http://CommonwealthBankofMacCready.tumblr.com/) | [my fic archive masterlist](https://commonwealthbankofmaccready.tumblr.com/post/172184061939/poisonjack-ao3-fic-archive)


End file.
